Friends and Lovers
by ladyoftheknightley
Summary: Wanting to see more of the world, Fleur Delacour takes a job in Gringotts bank where she meets Annie. The two soon become best friends, but their friendship is jeopardized when Annie falls for a gorgeous red-headed Cursebreaker by the name of Bill Weasley...


_I have taken a few liberties with the exact timings of certain canon events, but nothing major has been changed. Also, this is super long, but I just couldn't help myself; I love Bill and Fleur too much. I apologise for the title. I am pants at titles. Written for hpshipweeks; as usual I own nothing. Enjoy!_

* * *

Even before the Third Task was over, she was feeling burned out and exhausted by life. Madame Maxime, who had seen that sort of thing before in her high achieving witches, told her to take a year out and do what _she_ wanted to do before going back to France and getting a real job. "You are young," she had said. "You have all the time in the world. Travel. See a different country. Go wherever you want."

And she thought, why not? Her Headteacher was right. She saw an advert in a borrowed copy of the newspaper for a part-time translation position at Gringotts in London and applied on a whim. They called her for interview a week later, and then a friend of a friend of a friend told her of a place that was being rented cheaply in Diagon Alley and everything seemed to fall into place. She thought she'd stay for a year, coming back to France next summer.

But if nothing else, the last year should have taught her that not everything went according to plan.

x

"You are not staying here," her mother said. Fleur wasn't quite sure she had the words to disagree with her. The flat she had rented was spacious, yes, especially for its location on Diagon Alley, and it was _definitely_ cheap. But what the friend of a friend of a friend who had recommended it had neglected to tell her was that it was above a fish and chip shop, and no amount of Fresh Fragrance charms or Odour Ostraciser Scents were going to disguise the lingering smell of fish and frying.

"Well," she said, trying to look on the bright side. "I will get to sample the native cuisine, yes?"

Her mother gave her a look. She acquiesced.

"But it _is_ cheap," she reminded her. "And only for a year, after all. I'm sure there's worse places I could be staying; this isn't nearly Knockturn Alley at all. It's very safe."

"Perhaps we should open a window?" her mother suggested. They managed, through a combination of brute force and magic, to open the sash window. Stifling city air rushed in, bringing with it an even stronger smell of fish, and the rubbish bins outside. "Perhaps we should close the window," her mother said.

"It could definitely be worse," Fleur said, though her statement probably would have worked better if she had managed to keep the defensive tone out of her voice.

x

The first two days of work were hell: she shared an office with two secretaries who were a few years older than her and immediately took against her on sight. Their dislike was made even stronger when the male bank clerks—who seemed to be finding evermore ridiculous excuses to drop in on them—clearly couldn't care less about them, and instead only had eyes for Fleur. She was used to this sort of behaviours, from men and women alike, but it didn't make it any the less depressing. The work itself was immeasurably boring—the translation was simple enough, though she did get something of a crash course in English Arithmetic terminology.

On the third day, unable to stand their nasty giggles and sly glances any longer, she took an hour off at lunch and discovered Florean Fortescue's ice cream parlour, which sold the best ice cream she'd had outside of her Grandparents' village in Provence. She took her Strawberry Split outside and ate it in the sunshine while watching the world go by. She saw one or two faces she recognised from Hogwarts, though no one she knew well enough to say hello to, and she suddenly felt startlingly lonely.

She wanted to go home, she wanted France and her friends and she wanted..._him_.

She recognised him: he was the man who had come to see Harry Potter in the Triwizard Tournament. He'd been there when they'd heard _the_ news, a sort of reassuring presence even though she didn't know his name, nor had he spoken more than three words to her. And now here he was in the middle of London! (It wasn't that surprising: he was _English_, after all.)

He caught her staring and gave her a smile and a wink. She felt a blush form on her cheeks before she remembered that she was _Fleur Delacour_. She raised an eyebrow in return, giving the remains of her ice cream one final, long lick before sauntering over to the bin and dropping the cone into it.

Lesser men had been brought to their knees. He merely gave her a polite nod and indicated he'd be on his way. She didn't know _what_ to do.

x

Thoughts of the mysterious red-headed man plagued her all weekend, much to her chagrin, but Monday bought a distraction in the form of Annabel Aspit. Two years Fleur's senior, Annie worked as a trainee cursebreaker and Fleur thought she'd be friends with her forever purely because she rescued her from having to eat the goblin food in the staff canteen ("Oh, babe, no one eats here—there's this café down the road where they do sandwiches that are _literally_ to die for. Come on, I'll show you!") and very sweetly enquiring after what had happened to one of the secretaries' recent boyfriends ("Oh, really? Mind you, it's probably a good thing because I saw him snogging Kirsty from Foreign Exchange at the Christmas party—oh, you didn't know about that? Gosh...") which shut them up for a whole afternoon.

She and Annie soon became inseparable, and she spent much of the summer drinking cheap red wine out of chipped mugs in Annie's flat (which was much, much smaller but also much less smelly than her own place) and going out dancing all night long. Annie knew all the best places to go—the bars and clubs of magical Britain, but also muggle ones too. Anytime they didn't understand something about muggle culture, they simply used the fact that Fleur was French to cover it up.

"Though, babe, they'd forgive you anything looking the way you do," Annie after they laughed themselves silly watching two men who had been staring at Fleur's legs walk headfirst into a bin.

"You are not, 'ow you say, a bad face either, zhough," Fleur said.

"Eh, my ex-boyfriend would disagree with you," Annie said, linking her arm through Fleur's. "But he's a tosser, so who cares about him?! Besides, I have my eye on someone new."

"Ooh!" said Fleur, "'O ees 'e?"

"Bill Weasley!" grinned Annie, and a Fleur's stomach dropped most unpleasantly. "You've probably seen him around—he's got red hair in a ponytail, and he's just about the fittest guy I've _ever_ seen, you must know of him! He's all the girls at the bank talk about."

"Oh," Fleur said faintly. "I think I may 'ave seen 'im once or twice..."

"Well hands off, babe, 'cause he's all mine!" It was clear she was joking, but Fleur couldn't bring herself to laugh. She wasn't quite sure why Bill Weasley, who she had definitely seen once or twice...or three times or four times or five...set off butterflies in her stomach just by being in the same building as her, but she had a sneaking suspicion.

And she didn't like it.

x

"Oi, blondie, get your arse over here would you?" Fleur was halfway across the office before Annie had even finished her sentence, desperate to get away from the two women she shared an office with.

"_That's_ not the correct way to address a junior member of staff," one of them said snottily. Fleur and Annie exchanged a look.

"Oh, Mlle Delacour, I _do_ apologise," Annie said, putting on an over-the-top act of contrition. "I am so sorry if I have offended you, and pray you won't sue me for sexual harassment."

"I zhink I will probably not," Fleur said, grinning, as they left the office.

"Honestly, I don't know how you stand it," replied Annie, once the door had swung shut. "They're awful!"

"Me either," sighed Fleur. "But I 'ave not been 'ere long enough to get a transfer, and I need a job..."

"Well, I might have a proposition for you," Annie said. Fleur gave her an interested look. "We—the Cursebreaking team based here, that is—are having some trouble with some Runes. We think they're based off the French language, so we wondering if you could come and take a look at them with us?"

"You were?" Fleur asked.

"Well, I was. I suggested it, and the others okayed it," Annie shrugged. "And my boss's boss's boss is in there, so if you can impress him, who knows what might happen next?!"

"Eet ees an afternoon away from zhose women, eef nothing else," Fleur said.

Annie laughed. "That's the spirit. Oh," she added, pulling Fleur aside for a moment. "Fair warning: it's a bit of a boys' club in there. They're all sexist pigs. Well, the love of my life Bill Weasley isn't a sexist pig, but...the rest of them are. If they start to give you any grief about...looking the way you do, just smile and be ten times better at their job than they are. It's not ideal, but...it works for me."

"Oh," Fleur said, suddenly feeling very, very nervous. And not entirely for legitimate reasons.

"Ah," said one of the men, once Annie had opened the door. "Is this the little girl who speaks French?" Two goblins glared at her.

Fleur swallowed, before smiling brightly at the man, who seemed to be in charge. "_Oui, je parle Francais_," she said sweetly. "_Pouvez-vous_?"

There was a beat of silence, and she wondered briefly if she'd overstepped the mark, but then Bill Weasley stepped forward, grinning. "_Non_, he does not," he said, and she dared to relax slightly. "If you wouldn't mind stepping over here, Miss Delacour? We have the Runes we'd like you to look at, just follow me..." He guided her around to the desk without actually touching her body at all. She couldn't work out if that was a good thing or not.

"It's this one, here," he said, handing her a piece of parchment. Their faces were very close—too close, and not close enough, and she fought to keep her breathing even. She had been attracted to men before. It wasn't like this was _new_. But Bill Weasley was very, very attractive, and it was almost like his not touching her was deliberate, like he _knew_ how much she wanted a brush of the fingertips, a hand placed on her elbow and wanted to tease her mercilessly by not doing it. It wasn't _fair,_ dammit. That was the effect she was supposed to have on men. He was being horribly mean.

Not that she wouldn't forgive him anything, with that face.

She squared her shoulders. "Let me see," she said, peering at the parchment. "Ah, _oui_, eet means 'healing'."

"But that doesn't make sense," Bill frowned.

"No," Fleur agreed. "But wait. Look at zhis one. You 'ave eet as dying, but zhat is not correct...eet ees more _ending_, you know? So, if you combine zhem..."

It wasn't until Annie came over to them that she realised how much time had passed: whilst she and Bill had been pouring over parchment and deciphering the Old French Runes, the rest of the room had got to work on other things, leaving her and Bill together for about an hour. "Sorry about that," Annie said. "Berswick sent me off to fetch a bunch of stuff from the vaults like I'm some kind of dogsbody. Did you find anything?"

"Yes," Bill said. "Miss Delacour has a very in depth knowledge of French Runes. We've translated it all, see?" He handed over the parchment.

"Not just a pretty face then, eh?" asked Annie, having scanned it.

"I 'ave my moments," Fleur said, trying to look modest and not notice the way Bill was looking at her.

"I was talking about Weasley, actually," Annie said.

"Pfft, 'e is nothing special," Fleur said, echoing her teasing tone.

"Come now, Miss Delacour, you don't mean that!" Bill said, raising an eyebrow at her and grinning.

"Wouldn't you like to know?" she replied, stepping forward slightly so their bodies were almost touching.

She registered Bill say something ridiculous and flirtatious back in the same moment she registered the look of surprise on Annie's face, and immediately backed down. "But I must be going back to my office," she said, hastily. "Zhey will be wondering where I am. I am glad to 'ave been of service." Without so much as a goodbye, she fled from the room.

"Fleur! _Fleur_!" The corridors deep inside Gringotts were normally so quiet that she could not pretend she hadn't heard Annie calling her. She turned around, dreading what might happen next: Annie, who had been so unconditionally nice to her, who had been her first _real _female friend who hadn't been threatened by her own extraordinary beauty, who had asked nothing of her but that she stay away from the one man she was interested in, could hardly have missed her behaviour with Bill. But it was with deep and apparently genuine concern that she asked, "Are you okay?"

"Yes, I am fine," Fleur said, her voice clipped.

"Don't mind Bill," Annie said, coming up to her and linking her arm through Fleur's. "I know he's a bit flirty, but he doesn't mean anything by it. He's not going to...y'know, perv on you at your desk, or whatever."

"No, I know," Fleur replied. "I just zhought..." she trailed off, and Annie frowned.

"You just thought what?" she prompted. Fleur said nothing. "Oh, come on," Annie said kindly, tugging Fleur away from her office. "Let's have a tea break. We won't be missed. And we'll stay well away from Bill Weasley's office if you want. And don't take this the wrong way, or anything, but don't feel special. Bill Weasley flirts with everything with a pulse. You're no different to the next thing that'll come along, so don't worry about him approaching you again. Now, how about a biscuit?!"

Nothing had ever sounded so unappealing.

x

"Everything okay?"

Fleur hadn't realised that she'd made her noise of disgust aloud until she looked up to see a very familiar face looking at her in concern. She repeated Annie's words ("You're nothing special, nothing special, nothing special") like a mantra, attempting to supress the leap of joy in her stomach.

"Your English newspapers," she said, nodding towards the copy of the _Daily Prophet_ with its usual derogatory headlines towards Albus Dumbledore and Harry Potter. "Zhey are...I do not know zhe word in English."

"What is its meaning?" asked Bill Weasley, taking the vacant seat beside her without asking.

"I could not possibly say," Fleur said regally. "I am a _lady_."

"Go on," Bill said. "Say it! Say it in French. Then you can still be a lady, no one here will know."

"You will know!" Fleur said.

"I cannot speak a word of French," Bill said, a mischievous look on his face. "Well," he acquiesced. "I cannot speak the word you are thinking, at least, you bad girl."

Fleur rolled her eyes, trying not to replay his last phrase over and over in her mind for fear she'd melt into a pool in the Gringotts lunch room. "What are you doing 'ere?" she asked, attempting to change the subject.

"_Well_," Bill began, in a tone that indicated that this was a story that would take some telling. "I was hungry. And it was time for my lunch break. So I came to the lunchroom." He chuckled as she glared at him. "Honestly, they told me you were clever!"

She pushed the idea of him discussing her with other people—thinking about her voluntarily!—out of her mind. "I am much more cleverer zhan you!" she said. "No, much cleverer? More clever? Urgh, English. Eet is not a pretty language."

"I will agree with you there, on both accounts," Bill said, settling back into his seat. "Particularly about you being cleverer than I am. Translating those Runes the other day was very impressive."

Fleur tried to look modest. "You Cursebreakers do eet all zhe time!" she said.

"Yes, after years of training," he replied. "You are _wasted_ as a secretary."

Fleur shrugged. "My job is not challenging," she agreed. "But eet pays my rent, and I want to travel and see zhe world, so..."

"So you came to _England_?" Bill asked, shaking his head. "All the world to choose from and you come here? Have you had your head examined lately?!"

"Well, where would you suggest I live?" she asked, laughing.

"Egypt," Bill replied at once. "I spent seven years out there. Best years of my life. _Amazing_ country." He shook his head, suddenly seeming far away.

"You miss eet," Fleur commented. He nodded. "Why did you come back?" she asked.

"Oh," he said, overly casually. "Y'know. The usual reasons. Fancied a change, really." His gaze strayed towards the paper, which today was decrying Harry Potter as mentally deranged and Albus Dumbledore as a senile lunatic.

"I see," Fleur said softly, and perhaps she put too much into the words, because he looked up at once.

"Why did _you_ come back, after what happened to you at Hogwarts last year?" he asked sharply.

Fleur hesitated. "Cedric Diggory..." she said slowly, "was very nice to a spoilt French girl who saw 'im only as competition zhat must be beaten. 'E was...a pleasure to 'ave known. And 'e did not drop dead of 'is own accord." Bill nodded once. "Also," she continued softly. "Harry Potter saved my sister's life." Bill started, as though he was going to say something, but didn't. After a moment, Fleur continued. "I do not know what will 'appen over zhe next few years. But I know of your country's recent past: we were taught of eet in our last year at Beauxbatons, in our history classes. Eef something should 'appen...I should 'ope to 'elp."

Bill was silent for so long Fleur began to wonder if she had been slightly overdramatic in talking about the threats that were lurking, but in the end he gave her a small, but genuine smile. "A woman of your brains and ability...we'd be foolish to turn you away," he said. Fleur found herself blushing, but it was the heat of his gaze, and not his words that made her do so.

"I must be going," she said, breaking eye contact eventually.

Was it her imagination, or did he seem disappointed? "Not going to wait for Miss Aspit?" he asked.

"Eet is 'er mother's birthday; she 'as taken zhe day off," Fleur explained.

"Oh right," Bill said. "Listen...about the other day. I hope I didn't offend you at all. You ran off pretty quickly, and...well, I'd hate for that to have been because of something I said."

"_Non_!" exclaimed Fleur. "I mean, no. I just...'ad to get back to my office. I did not want zhem to miss me for too long."

"Ah," replied Bill, looking faintly disappointed. Fleur shot him a questioning look. "It's just, we've had a new shipment of goods come in from France, the Dordogne region, you know? But...well, there's some rather nasty curses on them, and none of us have a clue how to read the Old French Runes, so..."

"You were wondering eef I might read zhem for you?" Fleur finished, and he nodded, somewhat sheepishly. "I 'ave an 'alf day today; I finish at two. I could per'aps come along then?"

"Are you sure you want to?" Bill asked. "It's your half day; I wouldn't want to intrude on any plans you had made..."

"I don't have any plans," Fleur said, and immediately kicked herself. She should have pretended she was going to see a boyfriend, tried to make him jealous...but then she snuck a look at him, and realised that playing games with Bill Weasley probably wouldn't end well. He didn't seem like the boys she used to toy with in her schooldays, somehow. "But," she continued, "I would not mind coming along. Eet is a bit more exciting than being _une secretaire_. I miss...being challenged."

Bill nodded. "And if there's anything I can do for you, anything at all, you only have to ask," he said."

"I will...keep zhat in my mind," she said, smiling.

x

"Well, I'm off," said Robert MacFarlane, a co-worker of Bill's. "We've made good progress today, but it's way past home time and I don't know about you guys, but I'm ready for a drink!"

"Merlin, I didn't realise it was so late—it's nearly six!" Bill exclaimed. "I hardly noticed the time going by..." He looked directly at Fleur as he said the last part, and she blushed. Bill had been impeccably behaved—and so had she...mostly—and Robert MacFarlane had welcomed her with enthusiasm, but she had still hardly noticed his presence over Bill being there.

"Have a good weekend," Robert continued, picking up his cloak and heading towards the door. "Bill, don't forget we've got that meeting first thing on Monday. Miss Delacour, it was a pleasure to meet you. Thanks for your help today. And run home quickly now, before Weasley here has his wicked way with you now I'm gone!"

Fleur laughed and looked determinedly anywhere but Bill.

"He's right, you know," Bill said, once he had gone. "We should get going. For my sake as much as yours—if I was to have my wicked way with you, I dread to think which of those curses you'd use on me." Fleur shrugged. "You wouldn't curse me? Perhaps I overestimated you," he said, perching on the end of his desk in a way that made her want to jump on him. "What _would_ you do, then? Or would that be giving away your secrets?"

"Well," said Fleur. "I should scream. Or at least," she added, throwing her handbag over her shoulder and batting her lashes slightly. "I should like to 'ope zhat I would."

She didn't turn around until she was in the doorway, but the expression on his face kept her glowing throughout the weekend.

x

"I have decided something," Annie announced, marching into Fleur's office the following Monday.

"To lend me zhose blue shoes when we go out next?" Fleur asked hopefully.

"No," Annie replied. "Those are _mine_! What I have decided is this: I am going to ask out Bill Weasley by the end of today."

"You are...what?" Fleur said, trying to ignore the awful sinking feeling in her stomach. She kept hoping that Annie wasn't serious about her little crush on Bill, but she did talk about him all the time, and she did seem to have made a particular effort with her appearance today...

"I'm going to ask him out," Annie repeated determinedly. "Today. I've fancied him for ages, and it's time I manned up and did something about it. I'm going to ask him if he wants to go to the Flaming Salamanders gig with me next Friday."

"Oh," Fleur said faintly. She racked her brains for something more to say, but her mind was just filled with a roaring emptiness.

"So...yeah," Annie said, hopping off her desk and giving her a bright smile. "I'll see you at the end of the day, and hopefully with some good news!"

"'Opefully," Fleur echoed. She wasn't sure what would be worse: Bill saying yes to Annie, or him saying no. Either way, he was most definitely going to be Off Limits. She picked up her quill and exhaled so loudly that Christine, entering the room, actually asked if she was okay.

Fleur affixed a bright smile to her face and nodded. Of course she was okay. She was _Fleur Delacour_.

x

"And I mean, it could've been a lot worse," Annie said, pouring the last of the emergency wine into her mug. "He let me down really nicely, and he wasn't mean about it at all. Which is a lot, lot better than the last time I was rejected..."

"What 'appened zhen?" Fleur asked, arranging the blanket on the sofa so it covered her legs. September had arrived, bringing with it a slight chill, and she couldn't afford to put the heating on. Annie, after being rejected by Bill, had demanded a girly night in, and Fleur had obliged, supplying wine and sympathy. She tried not to think too hard about what Annie's rejection meant for her own chances with Bill...

"It was back in my sixth year, at Hogwarts. I'd fancied Stuart for _months_, and he'd just taken me to Hogsmeade for the first time. I was very much in love, as you can imagine," replied Annie. "The very next day, I found him snogging my best friend in an empty classroom when I was on Prefect patrol."

Fleur winced. "Zhat sounds..."

"Fantastic, I know," Annie said. "Didn't speak to either of them again for the rest of the year; and Tasha and I were never good friends again. It still makes me sad—we'd known each other for six years, and to lose all that over a boy..." She sighed.

"Eet will be okay," Fleur said, putting her arms around Annie, who had started to tear up.

"I know," her friend sniffed. "I'll get over Bill, too. It's just a shame, really: he's _so_ attractive. Cracking arse, too."

"I...'ave not looked," Fleur managed to say.

Annie looked at her in disbelief. "Bollocks you haven't—every woman under the age of 70 has checked _that _out!"

Fleur blushed and stuttered, and Annie giggled. "It's almost a shame he's off limits to you too, now—with both of your good looks combined, your children would probably have ended up the most attractive people on the planet!" she said.

Fleur took a big gulp of wine, and tried not to think too hard about that.

x

For Annie's sake, Fleur tried not to see too much of Bill Weasley over the following weeks, but that proved to be quite difficult when his bosses kept calling her into the Cursebreakers' offices to help with the translation of Old French Runes. Or at least, that was what she kept telling herself.

The problem was, every time she met him, they found something new to talk about. She didn't have to flirt with him; she was fine with just talking to him, about anything and everything. She'd never met anyone so _interesting_ before. She sometimes thought that the world might end before they ran out of things to say to each other. They talked about their families, France and England, Quidditch, music, things they'd read or seen or heard, Ancient Runes and Cursebreaking, places to eat and sightsee, school days, people at work, the newspapers...it went on, and on and on, and she _loved_ it.

And he was so _damn_ attractive, too. She realised quite suddenly one Monday morning that she was in danger of falling in love with him, and she realised equally suddenly that that would not be a bad thing at all. Except for the part where he was totally off limits, having rejected her best friend. Quite often, she thought this must be punishment for the way she'd treated boys in her schooldays.

And still she kept on coming back for more.

x

"Oh, _very_ nice Miss D!"

"Zhat dress is so lovely!"

"We are going to kill it tonight," Annie said, linking her arm through Fleur's. "Ready to hit the place up?"

"I still don't know where eet is we are going..."

"The Dragon and Snitch, I told you! Rajan's hired the whole club out for the Gringotts' employees to help him celebrate his birthday..."

"I still don't know who Rajan is..." Fleur laughed.

"Me either, but who cares?! He's invited basically the whole bank; we're all going to have a great time. They do the _best_ cocktails."

"Zhat sound excellent—oh _merde_, eet is cold!" Fleur hissed as they left her flat and entered the cold November air of Diagon Alley.

"Should've worn a longer skirt then, shouldn't we?!" Annie teased, and Fleur pouted. "I'm kidding, you look _fine_. C'mon, it's only five minutes' walk from here..." Laughing and joking, the two witches made their way along Diagon Alley to the Dragon and Snitch nightclub, which was already packed with Gringotts' employees—some of whom they hardly recognised—when they got there. After an hour or so of dancing, Annie bellowed in Fleur's ear that she was off to the loo, and Fleur had barely had time to decide if she was going to keep dancing or instead get another drink when she became aware that she wasn't alone any more: Bill Weasley had appeared from nowhere and was dancing with her, moving his hips in a way that just wasn't _fair_.

"Hello," he said, grinning.

"_Bonsoir_," she replied, her voice low and sultry, and placed her arms on his shoulders, linking her fingers together behind his neck. They danced together, their bodies moving closer and closer and even over the sound of the loud music and the hundred or so people talking and laughing all she could hear was his breathing, and all she could smell was his musky male scent and all she could see was his gorgeous, gorgeous face and all she could remember was the two months of flirting and talking and sexual tension leading up to this moment and then, in one glorious, glorious heartbeat they were kissing, and kissing, and kissing...

He broke away and she felt herself pouting, genuinely horrified that he'd want to stop, but he leaned forward and said simply, "Outside?", his lips brushing her ear. She followed him, of course.

Outside, pressed up against the back wall at the back of the Dragon and Snitch, they resumed their kissing. Some far off part of her mind recognised that making out with Bill Weasley in the driving rain round the back of a nightclub was not the way she'd imagined things (and oh, she had imagined things) but she couldn't bring herself to care because all there was in the world was _Bill_. He moved against her in a way that built a fire in her stomach and tugged at her hair; she pulled his free of his ponytail and he groaned. She whimpered in response and kept kissing and kissing and kissing, both of their hands moved across each others' bare skin, beneath layers of clothing, and she had never wanted anything more than she wanted him, now. If she could manage to break away from him long enough, she'd ask him to come back with her to her flat but she was sure she'd forgotten what words were, and all she wanted to do was kiss him and kiss him and kiss him...

As though from underwater, she suddenly became aware of another, familiar voice. "There you are! I've been looking for you every...where...oh." Fleur tore herself away from Bill long enough to see Annie's stricken face looking back at her across the street.

"Annie!" she squeaked, trying to pull down her top and push Bill away from her. "Eet...eet isn't what eet looks like!"

"Oh, I think it is," Annie said, her voice hardening. "You could've had _anyone_, but you—urgh. You're a terrible person!"

"Annie!" Fleur cried desperately, reaching out towards her. She tripped over Bill's feet and stumbled slightly, muttering the sort of words her mother would _never_ have approved of in a garbled mixture of French and English, and Bill reached out and grabbed her.

"Fleur? Is everything okay? What was that about?" She ignored Bill as she tried to rush after Annie, but she heard the tell-tale crack of apparition and slowed to a halt. "Fleur? Did I hurt you? I'm sorry..."

"No," Fleur heard herself saying, turning round to face him. Much as she like him, she knew what she had to do if she ever wanted to speak to Annie again. "You didn't hurt me. I just...I am not interested een a relationship now. I do not want to be anything with you. I 'ope I 'ave not been leading you on over zhe past few months, but...I do not want to be with you." It was the least she could do for Annie, the girl who had been her best friend.

Bill looked startled. "I...I thought that...that we had something?" he asked. "I've liked you for ages; I love working with you and talking with you, and you're not telling me you didn't feel something just then?!"

"Nothing at all," she lied, holding her head up proudly. "I am sorry eef I 'ave made you zhink otherwise. I appreciate you as a friend, and nothing more."

"Right," Bill replied. "Well then. Goodbye." Angrily, he turned away and marched off. Fleur managed to hold things together until she heard him apparate away, before sinking down onto the pavement and sobbing. She was a stupid, stupid girl.

x

The first thing she did after arriving at work the following Monday, after one of the worst weekends of her life, was seek out Annie in her office. Her floo had been turned off all weekend, and she hadn't answered any of Fleur's notes, but at work, there was no way she could avoid her. Fleur had to explain, to tell her it had all been a terrible mistake...

"Oh, it's _you_," Annie said, upon opening the door. She immediately tried to shut it again, but Fleur pushed her way inside.

"Annie, please, let me explain!" she said.

"I don't think there's anything to explain," Annie replied coldly. "Unless you're going to tell me that the person you were practically shagging outside the club was someone who'd just been Polyjuiced to look like Bill Weasley?"

"No, no, zhat's not—Bill and I, we are not like zhat!" Fleur said desperately. "I did not mean to...look, 'e rejected you! I did not—" She knew at once it had been the wrong thing to say; she hadn't meant it like that, but the look on Annie's face could have frozen Fiendfyre. and she tried to hastily backtrack. "I am your friend," she began, but Annie cut her off.

"And a fine way you have of showing it! Get out Fleur, just leave. I don't want you here," Annie yanked the door open, and Fleur, for the first time in her life, turned and fled.

x

"Fleur?" She jerked back down to earth with a bump at Christine's surprisingly kind voice. "There's someone here to see you."

"'Oo is eet?" she enquired. One week after her fight with Annie, the only people she spoke to now were Christine and the other secretary, Amanda. There were no more excuses to go to Bill's office; no more lunches with Annie...three times already she'd contemplated just packing up, admitting defeat and going back to France. The only thing stopping her was her pride.

"It's me." She looked up, and to her surprise saw Annie standing in front of her desk. "Can you get lunch?"

Fleur bit her lip. "Oh, just go," Amanda said. "Take an early break. Let's face it, it's not like anyone ever bothers to check on us..."

And so Fleur got up, and mutely followed Annie down the hallways of Gringotts, out onto Diagon Alley and into the warmth of a cosy little café, where they both ordered sandwiches and sat down.

"I owe you an apology," Annie said, taking a deep breath.

"No, I—" Fleur began, but Annie shook her head and cut her off.

"Let me," Annie said. "I was...horrible to you, the other day. I had no right to be mad at you for kissing Bill—he's not my boyfriend. I shouldn't have said what I said, and I'm sorry."

"No, eet is my fault," Fleur said. "I am your friend, I should not 'ave—"

"Oh, please!" interrupted Annie. "Like I say, it's not like he's my boyfriend. I must have been blind to not realise you two had something going on, and I'm definitely not prepared to lose one of my best friends over it. So, this is me saying I'm sorry and that I hope you'll forgive me, but either way...go out and get yourself a piece of that. You'd be stupid not to: the man's crazy about you."

Tears filled Fleur's eyes. "I cannot," she said, and Annie looked stricken. "I mean, I can forgive you, of course I can. Eet is me 'oo should be asking your forgiveness. But I cannot go to Bill. I told him I wasn't interested, zhat I didn't like 'im. I was...quite 'arsh. So...me and 'im, we are out of zhe question."

"Oh, babe, I'm so sorry," Annie said, reaching over and squeezing her hand. "I didn't mean to hurt you."

Fleur attempted a non-committal shrug and almost pulled it off. "Eet will be okay," she said. "I am just glad zhat we are friends again," she added, giving a watery, but genuine, smile.

"Of course we are," Annie said. "Screw men, we're too old to be falling out over them! Forget about Bill Weasley, you'll find someone new in time."

"I am sure I will," Fleur said. And, truthfully, even though she missed him like crazy, she did feel a tiny bit better now she knew she had Annie back on side.

x

November faded into December, and Fleur continued to go out and have fun with Annie, but her festive spirit was somewhat dampened by the fact that she and Bill now went out of their way to avoid each other at work. Before, she'd have laughed at someone who said it was possible to miss someone you hardly knew, but now she knew better: she missed the potential, the almost-something she'd had with Bill. There was a constant ache in her heart: she now knew that the person she'd been missing all along was no longer there.

Annie tried from time to time to get her to talk to Bill again, even offering to explain things to him herself, out of guilt, Fleur knew. But she refused to do either: she still had her pride, if nothing else, and the few times she'd run into him in the corridors of Gringotts, he'd determinedly avoided her eye. (Or at least, she assumed he had. She was too busy avoiding _his _gaze to check.) She wasn't about to go chasing after someone who clearly wasn't interested, even if Annie did insist that he was apparently pining after her. That was _definitely_ the guilt talking.

She was, therefore, quite looking forward to going home for Christmas. She was to spend nearly three weeks there; her Portkey was booked for 23rd December and her parents were going to meet her in Paris. It would be an escape from the interminable thoughts of Bill, if nothing else.

She hoped.

The day before Christmas Eve found her doing some very last-minute Christmas shopping early in the morning on Diagon Alley; indeed, she was so intently studying a scarf in one of the windows, wondering if she couldn't afford one extra present for Gabrielle that she didn't notice the person hurrying along the other way until she ran straight into them.

"Oh, _merde_, I am sorry," she said, straightening up. "I 'ope I did not 'urt..." the sight of the man in front of her left her unable to finish her sentence. It was Bill Weasley, but not like she'd ever seen him before: indeed, she doubted he'd even recognised her. "Bill?" she murmured, once she'd got her voice back. "Is everything okay?"

His hands were shaking as he gave one jerky nod. "Dad," he croaked out. "My Dad...he's...he's..."

"Oh no!" Fleur squeaked, her own hands flying to her mouth in horror. There was just one possible ending to that sentence, one word that would make him look that devastated: _dead_. She dared not say it.

"He is...still alive," Bill rasped. "Barely."

"Oh, Bill, I am so sorry," Fleur said.

"He was attacked," Bill said, his voice breaking on the last word. His knees buckled slightly, and Fleur reached forward, alarmed.

"Come with me," she said. She took his hand and led him, unresisting, down Diagon Alley. Fortunately, her flat was only a few moments' walk away; on reaching it, she sat him down on the sofa, and bustled off to the kitchenette to make a cup of tea, praying she'd remembered correctly the way Annie liked it. She forced the mug into his hands, and he raised it to his lips at once. It was only tea, but it seemed to have some kind of revitalising effect on him—after a couple of sips, he looked up at her as though only just realising who she was.

"Fleur!" he exclaimed. "I'm so sorry, I—" He half rose from the sofa, and she forced him back down.

"Drink eet," she said. "You look terrible."

"Thanks," he responded, a shadow of a grin flickering across his face.

She blushed. "I'm sorry, I did not mean—"

He waved her apologies away. "I've been up for thirty hours straight; I'm bound to look terrible." His face darkened. "Not as bad as Dad, though."

"What 'appened?" she asked softly. "You said 'e was attacked; is eet because of zhat man? Lord—"

"How do you know?" Bill asked, instantly alert despite the huge shadows under his eyes.

Slightly alarmed, she drew back. "Well, you told me about your bruzzer, Ron? _Oui_, 'e is friends with 'Arry Potter. And you read zhings in zhe paper...zhings are 'appening 'ere, bad zhings. And I could not zhink of any other reason why your father may 'ave been attacked, so..."

Bill nodded tersely. "I cannot tell you anything more than yes, it is in connection to that that he was hurt," he said. "He is going to survive, though for most of last night we thought that he was going to die. But we don't know how severe his injuries will be, still..." His shoulders shook and Fleur went to him without hesitation, sitting down next to him on the sofa and wrapping her arms around him, stroking his beautiful long hair.

Almost absent-mindedly, she found herself noticing how good he smelt, before immediately cursing herself for thinking such inappropriate thoughts at such an awful time. But try as she might, she couldn't _stop_ thinking them.

"Sorry," Bill muttered eventually, pulling away. She released him at once.

"Eet is okay," she said. "You 'ave 'ad a shock. Eet's okay."

"Fleur?" he asked. "Why are you doing this for me?"

It was as though the strangeness of the situation hit them both at once: having not spoken for over a month, she had run into him—literally—he had broken down, and she had taken him home. A sudden awkwardness filled the air, and she blushed and stuttered her way through an explanation. "Well, we are friends, and—" she began.

"No we're not," Bill said. "You said you didn't like me." There was no accusation in his tone, but her heart plummeted on hearing the words anyway. But, she realised, it was now or never. She wouldn't get a situation like this again; she could tell him now, or she could forever hold her peace...

"My friend Annie, you know 'er?" she said, after a long pause. He nodded. "She...liked you."

"I know," he said. "She asked me on a date, and I said no—kindly, I hope. What does that have to do with anything?"

"I liked you an awful lot," she said, looking anywhere but him. "Talking to you at work was zhe 'ighlight of my day and when I kissed you, eet was...wonderful." She finally stole a glance at him. "But Annie saw us and she was upset, and she 'ad been my friend since I got to England and I did not want to lose 'er over you so I told you...all zhose zhings, even though zhey are not true. Eet seems ridiculous now."

"No, it doesn't," Bill said, in a surprisingly strong voice. "Not at all. You were being loyal to your friend—there's nothing wrong with that." She stole another glance. "I admire that. It just makes me sad that we cannot take things further but...I'm glad I wasn't imagining that we had a connection."

"You weren't!" Fleur insisted. "And...I 'ave since made up with Annie, and she says zhat I am ridiculous to choose to ignore you. So...eef you would like, per'aps after Christmas, we might...go on a date? Is zhat 'ow you say? I mean, eef you want to. And eef your father is okay, and eef—"

"I would very much like to go on a date with you," he cut across her, and Fleur felt her face break out into a wide smile. "And—thank you so much for taking care of me today. Last night was an awful experience; I didn't know what I was doing wandering around London this morning and...just, thank you."

"You are welcome," Fleur said. "And, please, write to me whilst I am in France with news of your father. I 'ope 'e is 'ealed quickly."

"I will," Bill replied, giving a small but genuine smile. "And perhaps we could arrange our date, too?"

"Zhat I should like very much," Fleur said. "I—_oh, no_!" she added, noticing the time on the clock on the wall behind him.

"What? What is it?" Bill asked, alarmed.

"My Portkey to France, eet leaves soon! And I need to pack and get to zhe Ministry, and oh, _merde_, I am going to miss eet and—" she gabbled.

"Quick!" Bill said, setting down his cup of tea. "Go and pack, and I will take you to the Ministry Employees' entrance. My Dad works there, so I've known about it for years. It'll save you so much time. Go!"

Fleur bade a hasty retreat to her bedroom, throwing everything she needed into a suitcase in record time. She'd have to leave the small amount of cleaning for when she got back, but...it would do.

"Ready?" Bill asked, when she reappeared ten minutes later. "Got everything?"

"I 'ope so," she replied.

"Come on, then!" he said, taking her hand. Despite everything, her heart gave a small leap of joy: Bill Weasley was _holding her hand_. She locked her flat, and they raced down the back stairs into Diagon Alley, where he stopped. "Do you trust me?" he asked. She nodded. She didn't even have to think about it. "Hold your suitcase tightly," he instructed, before wrapping his arms around her. She barely had time to register this before he'd apparated them both away; when she opened her eyes, she was standing inside a large Atrium. "I lied about the Employees' Entrance—I just wanted to stay with you a bit longer," he admitted when she turned to him in confusion, and she laughed, appreciating his audacity and honesty. "Do you know where the Portkey Office is?"

She shook her head. "You will 'ave to show me," she said.

"What a hardship," he said. "Come on."

Laughing, they raced down corridors, still holding hands, before eventually arriving in the Offices of Magical Transportation. "I still 'ave 20 minutes before my Portkey leaves," Fleur said, glancing with relief at her watch. She rummaged around in her suitcase, pulled out a quill and a piece of parchment, and scribbled an address. "Write to me," she said, thrusting it at Bill. "I want to know about your father; tell me if 'e is okay."

"I will," Bill said. "And—thank you, again. I needed a distraction this morning, and...well, you certainly provided that. Thank you."

Fleur giggled. "You're welcome," she said. "Well...merry Christmas! I will see you next year, I 'ope!"

"I hope so too," Bill replied. "And, er, _joyeux noel_!"

"_Merci beaucoup_!" she said, smiling. "You 'ave been practising?"

"There's this French girl at work I want to impress," Bill answered, and she leaned up and he bent down and they met halfway, kissing and kissing until her Portkey arrived.

Next year, Fleur decided, her eyes fixed on him until the room started to spin away, was going to be a _very_ good year.


End file.
